


When The Battle's Over

by accidentalrambler



Series: And We Let It Burn [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Domestic Kink, Drabble Collection, F/M, NSFW, Nessian - Freeform, Post-Canon, nessian smut, nessian smut week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 10:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8798062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accidentalrambler/pseuds/accidentalrambler
Summary: Cassian goes back from his training with Azriel and wants some petting from his mate. Too bad Nesta's busy reading and ignores him. Smut ensues.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 2 of Nessian Smut Week, theme: domestic kink.
> 
> Hope you like ;)

She looks exquisite like this.

Gracefully nestled on the settee in front of the fire, one of the only luxuries in their small house on the edge of the Illyrian camp, Nesta seems completely engrossed in the book she’s reading.

Which is too bad since Cassian has just come back exhausted from his training session with Azriel and finds himself in dire need of his mate’s touch. The soft rays of the setting sun caress her golden brown tresses like a lover’s touch and there are glasses perched on top of her nose, giving her this naughty librarian look that just makes heat flare up in his body.

“Can’t you stop staring and do something useful instead?” Her bark resounds across the room, her eyes still set on the page she’s currently on.

A pissed-off naughty librarian it is.

But Cassian loves playing with fire. _Her_ fire.

Despite feeling slightly battered, there’s a bounce in his step as he saunters over to where Nesta’s sitting, a huff of annoyance leaving her mouth when he plops himself against her, his hand momentarily resting on her bent leg. He starts drawing patterns along her calf clad in silk pants, then going up and focusing his attentions on the sensitive area behind her knee. Still, his mate remains unaffected by his ministrations and only the almost undetectable flex of her muscles suggests she’s even aware of what’s he’s doing.

Time to up the game, then.

In one swift move, Cassian wrests the book from Nesta, a huge smirk with a hint of pride to it twisting his lips when he notes the title related to war tactics.

So bright. So vicious.

His moment of distraction is ruthlessly taken advantage of by Nesta who tips forward and tears the book out of his hands, then leans back and moves it as far from his reach as she can.

And she just. Keeps. Reading.

Now, this will just not do. There’s only a certain dose of ignoring an Illyrian male can take and that’s it for today. And there are quite a few spots on his body that just beg to be petted with those little deft hands of hers.

With renewed determination, his hands start a journey up her legs, along the inside of her thighs. He skims over her toned stomach, painting a few circles around her belly button with his fingers - the material of her barely-there tunic not much of a barrier for his rough touch. Dipping forward, he presses his mouth against her knee, tongue darting out and flicking against the inner side of it, leaving a wet trail behind him. All it does is drawing out an irritated sigh from Nesta, one that sends a rush of blood straight to his cock.

_Damn her._

The hand placed on her stomach wanders higher, slow and purposeful as it hovers over her breast. Fingers diving under the fabric, Cassian begins a torturously gentle caress. A brush of his fingertips against her nipples, a ghost of a touch against the soft skin on the sides while his mouth glides further, up and up, his teeth grazing the inside of her thigh until he rips the flimsy garment off with a forceful move of his jaw.

And she’s still bloody reading, a corner of her lips twitching in thinly-hidden amusement at his silent frustration.

Once again, he grabs Nesta’s book and tosses it much further this time, a look of triumph painting over his face as she sends him a murderous glare. In a matter of seconds though, it molds into a smirk again and he feels a stab of pain as his mate kicks him off herself.

Next thing he knows, Cassian’s falling off the couch, grabbing Nesta by the ankle, both off them toppling down to the floor.

Their eyes meet, hazel and blue-grey, both darkened by fury and lust and fire that always burn between them. It’s a staring match, it’s a duel, it’s a battle of wills, just like it usually is with everything between them.

He can feel the anger building up in Nesta as she pounces on him and they start to wrestle. She goes all in, teeth, nails and her fiery strength as they fight - like she always does.

He loves it about her. “You’re a vicious little thing, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he murmurs playfully into her ear before biting her lobe.

“You started it,” she snarls at him as she presses her hips closely against his, distracting him momentarily. And then he is splayed under her lithe form, wrists pinned to the floor with the grip of her hands.

 _Got you_ . He can almost hear her drawl of satisfaction through their mating bond. And sure, the way her body is so deliciously aligned with his? Cassian doesn’t mind it _at all_ but this smugness of hers?

It cannot stand.

With a quick sudden move, he flips them over, revelling in the way Nesta’s eyes simmer with emotion, all burning determination and outrage and...love. He takes it all in, this maddening amazing woman whose gaze pierces right through him, who challenges him like no other.

“I will wipe this foolish grin off your face,” she lets out, then presses her mouth to his in a burning all-consuming kiss. Her tongue demands entrance and it flicks against his, battling, rough, breath-taking, a mating dance. Cassian’s hold on her loosens and Nesta hooks her legs around him, grinding her hips into his. She swallows his moan and then another and another until he’s sprawled under her once more and he doesn’t even notice until it’s too late.

This time, he merely stretches up his arms and folds his hands behind his head. “And I love watching you try, princess,” he claims, his statement like another gauntlet thrown down to her.

With a dangerous smirk, she picks it up.

And soon, Cassian grits his teeth, trying to hold back the growl that lingers in the back of his throat as Nesta licks and nips and bites, his clothes in a shredded pile next to them.

And her hands -

Her hands are everywhere.

She lets them glide over his chest, as if she wants to learn every valley and muscle and crease in skin. One of them hovers over his furiously beating heart, her eyes flicking to his for a moment as she places a few gentle pecks there before she gets rough again. And she kneads and presses and roams while the silk of her pants brushes against his straining cock.

And that growl, the one that he’s managed to keep in for so long, passes his lips because Nesta scoots down and then the warmth of her mouth closes around his length and her tongue _swirls_ and laves around him while her head bobs up and down. His fingers tangle into her hair, his other hand almost crushing against the floor and Cassian can feel his wings itching to come out, to be stroked and fondled and when he finally thinks he cannot take it anymore, when he’s on the brink of begging so that this cruel woman will make him come, Nesta -

Releasing him from her mouth, Nesta wriggles out of her pants and takes him into her hands again, guiding him into her soaking entrance.

She watches as his cock slides into her further and further.

Finally, she sinks down onto him completely and they both gasp at the contact, the fullness and the warmth and the feel of them joined so closely. Their eyes meet and the low humming of their powers can be heard in the air, the rush of blood and fire and energy that prickles at their skin. Nesta begins to move, her gaze not leaving his face.

The rhythm she sets is frantic and relentless and soon they’re both fighting for breath. His chest is marred with scratches her nails have left, a droplet of blood in the corner of his mouth where she bit his lip. But now her hand is cupping his jaw, the other clasped in his by his head. And she’s so tight and hot around him and her walls are throbbing while her nipples brush against his chest as she moves.

Because it’s a duel. It’s a battle. And it’s love.

And there is no in-between.

“Nesta.” His moan - a soft caress, a gauntlet, a bite into her shoulder.

 _Nesta, Nesta, Nesta_. A whisper across her skin, a kiss on her neck.

He thrusts into her as she slants her hips down and something rings in his ears, her pussy clenching around him and then all Cassian can hear is his name falling off her tongue in rugged syllables as they tip over the edge together.

Pliant, lax, sated, she falls onto his body and their breaths mingle as they gasp for air. He’s still buried in her warmth and he feels lazy and boneless and happy, with Nesta’s breath tickling his chin as she nuzzles into the crook of his neck.

“I win.” He feels her murmur against his neck.

He laughs because it’s such a _Nesta_ thing to say.

_Until next time, sweetheart. Until next time._


End file.
